


All I Mind

by slapshot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Kane/Toews Screaming Match, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slapshot/pseuds/slapshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jonny looks over to Patrick - who is so asleep he's drooling down his hand - he wonders how everyone thinks he's the awkward one and Pat is some blonde god with stick handling powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed at a hotel just outside Philadelphia and the bathrooms in the hotel rooms were those tub showers where it's a bathtub with a shower head coming off the wall but you can't lean on the wall because you would fall out of the tub and when I tried to explain it to Dani she forced me into writing this Kane/Toews porn without plot and I am so sorry, blame Dani.  
> I think I went a little overboard with the Flyers hate thing. I don't normally involve team hate in my writing so as to appeal to all my readers but this time I kind of needed it to help the story. Just keep in mind I am a Penguins fan.  
> This is my first time writing so explicitly (and then sharing it). Hopefully I don't screw up.

Playing the Flyers absolutely fucking sucks any time of year; afternoon or night game, home or away game, regular season or playoffs. It. Fucking. Sucks.

Obviously, the ideal would be a night game in Chicago towards the middle of the regular season when the Flyers start to not give a shit and games don't really feel all that important (unless you're Patrick Kane and you think 'an afternoon game could totally kick a night game's ass' as if hockey games are physical beings). It would be ideal if some of Philly's dirty players were out of the line up or even if a few of their heavy-hitters were watching the game from the suite seats instead of the bench.

But, no. Of fucking course not. It has to be an afternoon game. On the road. At the end of the regular season when games become the deciding factor between a team's playoff berth and an early summer. Above all, the Blackhawks' slacking in February is catching up to nip them in the ass and it fucking stings.

Jonny is absolutely losing his mind. They only need to manage one win - ONE WIN - in order to clinch the division. It, honestly, sounds so much easier than it actually is. It sounds so easy Jonny would laugh if it weren't him - if it were the Bruins or the Kings instead of Jonny's team, the team that he's captain of. The Flyers will certainly be of no help tomorrow at the game. That's for sure.

Of course, with the pop-up storm in Chicago, their flight was delayed two hours so instead of heading to the hotel first they're going straight to practice. Yet, the plane manages to get them to Philly a half hour faster than usual. This way they still land early in the morning - well, early enough to where Jonny's yawning as they get off it - and then they're packed into a bus and forced to listen to Sharpy _not shut up_ about the prank he pulled on Kaner in the plane. Patrick certainly wasn't and isn't the least bit amused by it, if his face is a clue to anything. Jonny knows it will be a long two days in Philly. And lucky him, he gets to room with the moody Patrick Kane.

Pat manages to make asking for the window seat on the bus as awkward as possible. He stops in the aisle where Jonny is seated in the farthest of the two seats and stares at him with sleepy eyes. Jonny doesn't even realize he's there until one of the guys behind him - Shaw, maybe - says something and Patrick slips down into the aisle seat. They sit there in silence as the rest of the team gets situated, Jonny not taking his eyes off of Patrick who is just staring dead ahead at the back of the next row. Once everyone settles, Pat finally faces him to speak, his mouth dropping open to attempt accumulating words, with absolutely nothing coming out.

Jonny rolls his eyes. He forces Patrick to his feet and switches seats with him. The only slight thank you he receives in turn is a nod and a short smile that is barely there.

As Jonny looks over to Patrick - who is so asleep he's drooling down his hand - he wonders how everyone thinks he's the awkward one and Pat is some blonde god with stick handling powers.

Well, Jonny can see the stick handling god half. He would be lying if he said he didn't.

There's a tap on Jonny's right shoulder. He figures, judging by the angle and pressure, that it's someone behind him and that that someone is Patrick Sharp. Jonny twists in his seat. Surprise, it's Sharpy.

"Hey, Toes," he whispers, "I didn't get little Peeks too hard did I?"

Jonny looks over to the sleeping Patrick and considers the way his shoulders are tense and his whole body is pressed up against the side of the bus, how his lips are parted in a straight line, his curls wild and untouched. "I don't think so. He's just," Pat's eyes strain under his eyelids and then relax, "stressed or something." Sharpy slinks back into his seat at that with a nod of agreement and altogether _finally_ shuts up.

…

Coach Q's whistle echoes off the ice and the glass. Jonny cringes at the consistent pitch and takes a long drink from a Gatorade bottle before racing out to the faceoff circle to Crow's left.

"Last drill, boys!" Q calls from the blue line. Shaw gives a quick cheer from the bench followed by a bit of laughter from the guys and a captainly glare from Toews. Of course, according to Q, the previous drill was the last one, too.

It's a simple power play and penalty kill drill. It shouldn't take long.

Q blows the whistle once more and Kitchen, acting as ref, goes to drop the puck. Jonny lowers himself closer to the ice and rests his stick on his thighs while he awaits Handzus to line up at the circle.

Jonny aligns his eyes with Kitchen's forearms. The second his stick is placed on the faceoff dot the puck hits the ice only to bounce back up before Jonny can knock it away to an eager Kaner on his right.

It's not really a surprise to anyone when Patrick uses his, admittedly godly, stick handling skills to dance around Hjammer. However, it takes all the guys by surprise when he passes to Jonny when Jonny isn't calling for it and is in no way open or ready for a pass. Handzus, who was blocking Jonny's view perfectly, intercepts the attempt with a smirk and sprints down to Raanta's end of the ice on a two-on-one - Duncs being the one.

Jonny's right behind Handzus, skating as hard as he can manage. By the time he's close enough to lift his stick, Handzus passes the puck smoothly to the tape of Smith's blade who then slaps the puck to a two inch wide window just above Raanta's left shoulder.

Thank god for Antti Raanta.

Q blows his whistle and skates over to speak with Kitchen. Jonny's at the bench trying to catch his breath and swallow an entire Gatorade bottle at the same time.

"Damn, Tazer," Sharpy laughs from behind him, "you know this is a practice, right?"

"Someone has to pick up Kaner's slack." He nearly yells, Patrick being, of course, right behind him.

"I fucking passed you the puck. Isn't that what you always nag me to do?"

"Well, yeah," Jonny nearly laughs, facing Patrick so Pat can see how annoyed he is, "when I'm open and there isn't a guy right in front of me."

Patrick is clearly trying to compensate for his height by getting up in Jonny's face and absolutely _sneering_. "Maybe if you would move your fat ass and get open-"

"That was the worst pass I've ever seen."

Patrick chirps back, "Like you haven't made ones worse."

"Sure I have. In juniors."

"Not all of us were built as Canadian hockey machines." Now Patrick's yelling at Jonny and it's echoing louder than Q's whistle did.

Which, fine, Jonny can scream too. "You didn't even pass it in my fucking direction, dumb ass."

"If you were in position then it would have gone right-"

"I _was_ in position. When you go right I hit the net." Jonny's not entirely sure where he put the Gatorade bottle he was holding but he's not going to look for it now.

Sharpy tries to split them up in a failed attempt, resulting to just yelling "shut up" over and over.

"Not if there are two men down low and I'm going to pass to you at the fucking center which is your position's _name_."

Now Saad's pulling back Patrick and Seabs is assisting Sharpy do the same to Jonny.

"That wasn't the drill. Were you fucking paying attention?"

Jonny can't make out Patrick's next words through the high pitch whistle from Q but it was definitely nothing nice. "Suicides!" Q yells. You can practically hear the stifled groans from the team that would only result in an extra five minutes on the ice.

As they all line up, Q has to skate to the center circle to remove a lone bottle and, oh. Found it.

…

The guys leave the ice shortly after and are careful to keep Patrick and Jonny away from each other. Jonny doesn't know why, though. It's not like any of this is unusual. They fight all the time. That doesn't mean Jonny wants to look at Patrick at all in the next however-long-it-takes-them-to-get-to-the-hotel.

Which, the last few times they stayed in a hotel in Philadelphia they used the same one. And lost - or came very close to losing - every game. So management figured they should probably switch things up for a change.

There are a few hotels near the Wells Fargo Center that they could have chosen but they went with one a little while away so as to keep distance from any Flyers fans. Jonny would never argue against the consideration - one time a fan had thrown beer at Seabs when they were boarding the bus (and thankfully Duncs hadn't seen but he was still pissed when Seabs told him). Patrick, on the other hand, whines to Saad, because there is no way the team was going to listen to him and Jonny continue their screaming match on the bus, about how it's probably a weird Philadelphia hotel with neon orange and dumb 'brotherly love' posters everywhere.

Jonny can hear him complaining from the front of the bus and has to resist the temptation to turn around and call him a whiny princess.

"Hey, Taze," Crow says with a nudge to Jonny's shoulder, "quit pouting."

It's then that Jonny realizes he has been sitting with his arms crossed and a dead stare fixed on nothing. Crow had guided him not so politely onto the bus and then assumed the aisle seat next to Jonny. What did he think Jonny would do? Trip Patrick as he walked by? This is so fucking dumb.

Jonny ignores Crow's comment. "Why do I have to sit with you?"

"That hurts," Crow throws a hand over his heart dramatically, "it really does." When Jonny doesn't answer and rudely watches the street out the window, Crawford adds, "Kaner's been really stressed, lately." Jonny could have guessed that. "He's had that scoring drought for a few games now and I think it's really getting to him. Instead of fighting you should try to be captainly."

"Patrick hasn't been on a," Jonny goes to argue but the more he thinks about it the more it makes sense. Patrick has been putting in the effort but there have certainly been no goals off his blade lately. An assist, maybe, every two or three games on the power play but nothing too impressive. Patrick has become _really_ good at hiding shit from Jonny. "Oh, fuck."

Jonny's burying his hands in his face when Crow adds, "Yeah." for good measure and pats Jonny on the back.

…

Jonny doesn't really know what to expect when he gets to his hotel room. At the least, he assumed Patrick would show up and try to finish the argument in his favor. That doesn't happen.

As far as the hotel itself goes, the colors are neutral with the occasional red thrown in in the form of a chair or lamp. The paintings on the walls - because all hotels have them for some expensive reason unknown to Jonny - are 'abstract' and mainly just paint splatters with a shape hidden in one corner. The bathrooms are small but big enough to accommodate a hockey player or two. The shower is more or less a bathtub off the wall with a shower head angled into it. It's weird, different definitely, but nice.

Jonny examines the kitchen, which is just a small counter along the wall when you first walk in, until he finds two water bottles neatly placed in the small refrigerator. He takes one and starts to sip from it. If this half of their screaming match is going to be anything like the first, Jonny is going to want some water.

But Patrick doesn't show up. Not after twenty minutes of Jonny pacing the room and planning out every possible argument. Not after a half hour of watching the NHL Network discuss the trades made at the trade deadline. And not after an hour of pacing and planning and arguing with the TV and texting:

_Where are you?_

Ten minutes pass. No response. Jonny gives up.

Well, no, Jonny doesn't 'give up', exactly. He's just taking a break. From waiting. So he can shower because Jonny just wanted to be out of that locker room and he figured he could take a longer shower at the hotel.

Or, Jonny _could_ if only the stupid fucking shower handle had instructions. It takes a good five minutes for him to realize he has to lift it up in order for water to come out and then rotate it to change the temperature.

At first it's scalding hot but what the hell, Jonny's sure it's fine. He's taken plenty of hot showers after losses or bad practices. He steps into the tub and _fuck_ that is burning. Jonny immediately reaches for the handle to turn it down and gets drenched in what feels like boiling water. And, okay, fucking ow.

The longer Jonny stands in this odd tub shower, covered on all sides by practically see-through curtains, the more he really hates it. Jonny knows this is Patrick's fault somehow. Even with the drought in mind, what was wrong with Kaner today? First he wouldn't talk at all and then he wouldn't shut up. That pass in practice - what _was_ that? It truly was shitty and off-target and it's not like Patrick ever willingly passes to Jonny without him yelling for it in the first place. There's definitely something up with Patrick that is more than a scoring drought. Jonny just has to figure out what that something is before the 'blonde stickhandling god' gets the whole team down.

He feels a sudden twist in the lower part of his belly and looks down. Fuck.

Okay, maybe - _maybe_ \- Jonny has a bit of a 'thing' for Patrick Kane. But it's just a thing, that's all. A thing that he's had since juniors. And that spiked when they won the cup. Twice. Nothing more.

There's a very, very thick line that separates teammates from people-you-can-have-a-thing-for. There's even a huge empty space in the middle of that thick line and if you try to carry someone from one side to the other you will fall in that space and die. Well, you probably won't die, exactly.

Needless to say, Jonny isn't on board with this 'thing' that his dick and his heart have agreed on. That's a lie. Jonny's not entirely on board with _acting out_ on such a thing. And jerking off in the shower thinking about Patrick doesn't technically count as acting out if no one finds out. Yeah, sure, that makes sense.

So no one is there to know when Jonny puts his hand on the base of his dick. Or when he starts to twist his wrist up his shaft in long, hard strokes, running his thumb over the tip every other time. No one is here to scold Jonny when he closes his eyes and imagines it's Patrick getting him off and touching him. Or when he reaches for his balls and starts to moan a distant and mumbled "Pat" while picking up the pace with his other hand.

Most importantly, no one is here to tell him that Patrick just entered the hotel room and is walking over to the bathroom door so that when he moans, loudly, "Fuck, Kaner," Patrick opens the door with a cut off, "Hey, Jonny, I-" and in half a second they've fallen into that empty space.

Jonny freezes and tries to hide his uneven breathing behind the curtains. "Jonny?" Patrick says. It's hard to make out over the insistent water from the shower head but it's not that difficult to guess. "Were you," is all Patrick can manage, leaving the rest of the sentence to Jonny's imagination - which is apparently really fucked. Jonny just wishes he would shut up. "I-"

"Get in or get out." Jonny yells to cut him off. There are several seconds of silence before Jonny tries to fill it with a less breathy, "Patrick, it-"

"Shut up, Jonny." Patrick says and then there's shuffling and Jonny wishes he had the nerve to look out through the curtains.

In a minute or less, Patrick is stripped and stepping into the tub that Jonny really wishes was just a normal shower with walls.

He tries again to speak, but seeing Patrick naked in the _same shower_ as him hasn't helped his breathing at all. And Patrick Fucking Kane, of course, looks so beautiful with wet lashes and soaked curls. Jonny just hopes he doesn't look as flushed and red as he feels. Maybe the heat of the shower is hiding it. "I'm really-"

"Shut up and fucking kiss me." Patrick smirks through his words and pulls Jonny down by the shoulders to kiss him, warm and wet, on the lips. It's about as chaste a kiss as Chara's slapshot is slow; anything but. And it takes Jonny a good couple of seconds to snap out of his daze and raise his hand to the back of Patrick's neck where he locks his fingers in the short, damp curls there.

Patrick moves his hands down Jonny's chest with splayed fingers that touch him everywhere. He rubs over Jonny's left nipple and earns a suppressed moan that Patrick licks into. Then Patrick's moving closer, pressing their bodies together and Jonny's cocky enough to take pride in the fact that his dick isn't the only one taking interest. He smiles against Pat's mouth and Patrick must read his mind because he pinches Jonny's nipple between his thumb and index finger. Jonny's mouth goes slack in a very embarrassing gasp much to Patrick's amusement.

Jonny's the first to shift, rubbing their dicks in a pleasurably rough way that makes Patrick pull back for air. His hands slip down to Jonny's waist and cause a shiver to crawl up his spine.

Then Patrick is looking up at Jonny, who still has his hand in Pat's very blonde curls, and Jonny can't help but watch those bright blue eyes watching him back. It's mesmerizing, and Jonny only looks away to kiss across Patrick's jaw line and suck lightly at the skin just below his ear.

"Jonny," Patrick moans, leaning into the hot press of Jonny's lips against his skin with a sigh.

Jonny hums against him and reaches his free hand out to graze Patrick's shoulder. Then he ghosts his fingertips over Pat's side, moving his lips to create the barely-there touch with his mouth.

"Touch me." Pat dares him, sliding his own fingers along the hollow of Jonny's hips to outline his dick.

Jonny's breath hitches. Fuck. Then he glides his hand from where it had rested on Patrick's hip to the base of his dick. He wraps his hand around it lightly and matches the pressure there with a soft kiss under Patrick's jaw.

Pat moans and grabs Jonny's hips again to steady himself, tracing circles with his thumbs.

Jonny smirks and adds to the pressure, pulling his hand up Patrick's dick hard and slow. He kisses him in the earlier spot, just below Pat's ear, with the same rhythm as his hand, licking out against it.

Jonny whispers against the area starting to turn red and wet from his tongue, his breath hitting the skin there in short, cold shivers. "You like this?" His voice has dropped an octave, for sure, and, by the looks of it, Patrick noticed.

But all Patrick can manage in response is a nod as he bites his bottom lip to mumble the moan that escapes him. He's bucking into Jonny's hand involuntarily and precome is starting to slide over the head. Every few strokes Jonny puts slight pressure there to make Patrick gasp. His grip on Jonny is getting tighter. Marks on Jonny's hips would kind of obviously give him and Patrick away - seeing as Jonny didn't have them at practice - so he generously removes his hand from Patrick's curls and plucks the fingers of one hand away from his hips to entwine them with his own.

That caught Patrick's attention. He looks up at Jonny - with the most fucked and wanting look that makes Jonny remember how his dick is painfully hard - and nearly headbutts him as Jonny hadn't moved his head from along Pat's jaw.

It's probably a little more than rude to laugh at someone while you've got their dick in your hands. Jonny has to hide his smile by sloppily crashing his lips against Patrick's and quickening the pace of his hands.

Patrick's mouth is slack and desperately taking in all of Jonny's air. It takes just three more thrusts and orgasm is hitting Patrick, hard. He's coming over their stomachs and painfully squeezing Jonny's hand.

Jonny strokes him through the aftershocks and steadies Patrick by gripping his hand that's still entwined with Jonny's.

Once Patrick isn't about to fall over he smiles a very cocky smile that's so Kaner it makes Jonny's breath give way. Which makes Patrick about one hundred percent more cocky.

He grabs Jonny's dick almost too fast and it makes Jonny jump a little. Patrick leans up to Jonny's ear and whispers, "Do I do it for you, Jonny? Do I make you want to come?"

Jonny's not sure words are a thing he wants to actually try to put together right now. But he moans deep and loud.

"You're gonna have to say something." Patrick teases with a smile Jonny can feel. Patrick moves his hand from Jonny's dick down to play with his balls.

Jonny gasps and rushes, "I could - _fuck, Patrick_ \- I could get off just looking at you."

"You could have so much more of me if you wanted it." And that's all Jonny needs to hear. He doesn't need to be touched he just needs Patrick, who willingly supplies both.

Jonny doesn't feel so bad or embarrassed about nearly crushing Pat's hand since Patrick did it first to him. Or when Patrick pulls his hand away - after Jonny could stand without support, he's not _that_ much of an ass - and massages it with his other. "Ow, I need that hand."

Jonny just laughs and reaches across Patrick for a wash cloth or something. Patrick is only trying to be polite and move out of the way when he forgets there aren't any walls in the shower and goes to lean back, nearly falling out of the tub.

Jonny drops the cloth and grabs Patrick by the sides a little too harshly. "Woah, careful, Jonny. That's your star winger you're manhandling."

Jonny says, "I think we're a little past manhandling." and it makes Patrick blush from his cheeks to his ears and all across his shoulders. There's no hiding it. Even if he tries to with another arrogant smirk and a, "Damn, right."

…

"Patrick." Jonny says from his bed where he's sprawled out on top of the covers watching the Blues get crushed by the Penguins. Patrick mirrors him on the other bed. He acknowledges Jonny with a "Mmm" and slight nod of his head. "You've been in a scoring slump."

Patrick shifts uncomfortably, "Yeah, I know."

"Why?" Jonny asks kind of stupidly. He's really not making this easy for Patrick.

He starts playing with the remote, outlining buttons and scratching at the bumps on the back. Shit. "I think it's stress." It comes out of Patrick's mouth more as a question and he clears his throat to hide it. "You know, playoff berths and all that. The whole 'it's just _one game_ ' thing kind of messes with your head a little." Jonny's nodding along to everything he says, causing a sore muscle to spring up in his neck. He reaches back and rubs at it. "It all kind of makes you doubt how good you are as a player." Patrick says it like he's joking and adds in fake chuckles every few words to try and throw Jonny off. But Jonny knows Patrick. He knows he isn't joking.

"You turned out pretty okay for a Buffalo kid." Jonny jokes.

Patrick gasps in exaggerated offense. Though, knowing Patrick, he's probably really offended. "Buffalo is way better than fucking Winterpeg, you Canadian asshole."

"Good one." Jonny chirps.

Patrick is too cocky for insults from Jonathan Toews. He smiles back and says, "It's the truth." like it's a fact.

Then Kunitz blatantly kicks in a goal and Jonny and Patrick start arguing over whether trying to kick the puck to your stick should count as a goal or not if it goes in before you touch it.

It would have been a normal night - or at least a normal ending - if Patrick hadn't commented at the end of their dispute, "We should fuck in that shower before we leave." Jonny has to get up and grab a glass of water since he's choking so hard. On his way back he's sure to punch a laughing Patrick on the thigh.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this may or may not have turned into porn with plot and I may or may not have been seriously craving depressed/stressed Kaner with side effects like screaming matches with Toews and gay shower time.  
> Which, how are certain people *cough Patrick cough* supposed to accidentally walk in on their sexy best friend *cough Jonny cough* when he's jerking off in the shower to ultimately join him if there are curtains and NO WALLS  
> I apologize to all Blackhawks fans if any of the boys on the team don't act like they normally would in real life or if anything is not like in real life. Please let me know if you disagree with something so I can either fix it or make a note for future works.  
> I do not have anyone to beta my work, sadly, besides my friend Dani. Plus, this was written on scrap notebooks and then copied into my kindle. I apologize for any mistakes in spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc.


End file.
